


Haven

by primeideal



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Extra Treat, M/M, Time Travel, Trick or Treat: Chocolate Box, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-25 16:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12536212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: Bespin was a refuge for all kinds of people; gamblers, droids, smugglers, even politicians.To say nothing of the time-travellers.





	Haven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [This](https://archiveofourown.org/users/This/gifts).



The first of the refugees came looking for a place above it all. She brought nothing with her through the disaster that left her stranded, and the Empire did not take kindly to strangers with no name, no form of identification, and no respect for their authority.

Lando had accepted the apartment building as exchange for a debt from a small-time droid who needed a spaceship and was so annoying that Lando was ready to take anything to get it out of the city. He told himself he’d find a use for it someday, and when the woman arrived in Bespin, he knew he’d found one. “You have a place to stay for as long as you need it,” he assured her. “If you’d like work, give me a few days to put ears on the foundation and I’ll see who’s looking.” Grounds were for lesser worlds.

She muttered her thanks and he hurriedly paced away, cape trailing behind him, as if en route to take up administrative duties. He couldn’t stand her look of helplessness any more than she could.

He didn’t expect there to be others, but she had nothing but time to work the holonets in secret, reaching out to those in situations just as desperate. If you had nothing, not even a past worth detailing, you could come to Bespin, no questions asked. They called it the Haven, hoping against hope it would be only temporary.

In truth, it was temporal. Caught up by powers greater than they could fathom, castaways from the past were strewn into a distant and unwelcoming future. For some, the Empire’s rule was an unimaginably strict grip; others found they had merely traded one set of oppressors for another. Lando told himself the Haven was less charity than opportunity. The timelost had to come somewhere: why not Bespin? They had less to hide than many who sought a fresh start in the city, and more to offer, with skills and knowledge that would make plenty of historians green with envy. (The ones who weren’t already green to begin with).

So amid his public responsibilities, he monitored the Haven on the side to make sure everything was running smoothly. And it did, until he met a man who shivered at their era with a strange, wild light in his eye.

“You’re Lando,” he stammered. “I mean, G-Baron Calrissian?”

“That’d be me,” Lando nodded.

“Thank you. Very much. For running this place.”

“You’re welcome. Try and keep quiet about it, and use the secure nets.”

“Of course. I’m, uh...”

That routine again. He’d been through it a dozen times. “I don’t need _your_ name. You might want to think of _a_ name if you’re going to stick around.”

“Right. I’m...Lakun. Lakun Bey.”

“That’s more like it.”

“Kyma said you try to set people up with jobs, if you can?”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I haven’t. Just, uh, if anything looks promising. I get bored with those secure nets, you know,” Lakun grinned.

So not from Kyma’s era, then. Or at least not her backwater homeworld. She had trouble figuring out the concept of a “video chat” with someone on the opposite side of the galaxy. Fortunately Lando did enough boasting about the virtues of Bespin that giving a quick tour of the wonders of the modern age got to be fairly routine.

Within a few days he had a list of options for Lakun. “Miners’ guild always needs help. Right now they need a union representative who can serve as a go-between with management.” Lakun nodded, but remained quiet. “Can you drive a cloud car?”

“I think I could pick it up pretty quickly,” said Lakun, with what passed for modesty.

“There’s enough tourists to fly some of them around. And I suppose being a security guard at some of the casinos that are...less stringent about their background checks.”

Lakun raised an eyebrow. “Security how? Talking to people? With blasters?”

“Depends on the night.”

“I’d really prefer something where I don’t have to talk to people so much.”

“More of a loner, huh? That’s all right.”

“Well, no. I mean—I just don’t want to let something slip—that I’m from—another time.”

“Hmm.” Lando gave it a moment’s thought. Several of the Haveners were content to remain in their quarters, but this Lakun gave him a puzzle, and he didn’t like giving in so quickly. “You said you could pick up flying a new model of ship quickly, yes?”

Nod.

“There are a couple remote craft that patrol the lower levels to make sure the oxygen and other gas levels stay within habitable ranges. I think most of them have been phased out to drones by now, but there are a few old-style manual ones. I mean, old-style, whatever that means to you.” Lakun remained expressionless. “It’s not fun work, by any means, but someone has to keep the city afloat.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Hold on,” Lando said. “I haven’t even asked if there’s an opening yet.”

“That’s fair. I’d appreciate it if you looked into it, please.”

The managers of the substratum patrols were not pleasantly surprised to find the Baron Administrator inquiring after their progress and rushed to assure him that everything was in stable condition. After several skeptical glances when he assured them that he was only interested in job openings, that no, he wasn’t experiencing a sudden crisis of confidence and curious for himself, and that he wasn’t about to assign untrained prisoners there, they informed him that indeed, their skilled patrollers were normally itching to take their aviation skills somewhere more glamorous, and if he could supply competent talent, turnover was frequent. “No promises,” he said coolly, “but I’ll see what I can do.”

How had he already half-convinced himself of the stranger’s skill? Lakun was from an unknown past, perhaps had never flown ships like theirs, and Lando was all too familiar with people who talked good games but were just coasting on noise. But already he wanted to extend his trust. Maybe it had just been too long.

Lakun reported for training duty the next day and Lando went back to his civic circuit, only occasionally glancing in on the Haven, but took it in stride when Lakun reported during one such check-in that he’d aced the preparatory work and had long since been cleared for the downward loops.

“I’m sure you fit right in,” teased Veecol, a Mon Calamari Havener. “It sounds like the only probes still on manual control down there are from these people’s past anyway.”

Lakun laughed. “I like a challenge, what can I say.”

“A challenge?” Kyma gaped. “You have nicer ships than these where you come from?”

Lakun turned away. “Never mind.”

“It’s good to talk about home,” Veecol said. “We’re all friends here, I don’t see a way for us to get back any time soon unless Ditquin here can find some theoretical hyperspace shortcut on the secure nets.” Ditquin, a scientifically-minded but usually incomprehensible Ewok, trilled in approval. “As long as you’re around people who can keep your secrets, talking will help.”

With a nod, Lakun said, “I know. And you all should—keep trying. But I can’t, I’m sorry.”

He paced outside, and on instinct, Lando followed him. “Look,” he said, “I don’t mind if you all are talkative or quiet amongst yourselves, whatever you prefer to help keep the peace. Goodness knows it’s easier if you get along, because I’d rather not sort out your squabbles and I’d certainly rather not tell anyone else about it.”

“Great,” said Lakun. “Can I get going then?”

“But I _do_ mind if you think your problems are somehow worse than everyone else’s here. Everyone is just looking for a place to fit into the present, and whatever you choose to share, don’t go setting yourself above the others.”

Lakun shook his head. “I thought you were different.”

“What?”

“I thought you—saw us all as people, not just the ship I hover. But no, you’re afraid to take me at my word.”

“It’s nothing special. Everyone in this city sees me by my title, too. The cape follows after me, but it might as well come before me. Me, I’m just looking for what con they’re trying to play. Most of the deals I hear these days are too good to be true or too dumb to consider.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You want to see the kind of deals I hear these days?” Lando snorted. “I’d show you, but I guess you’re not a people person this epoch.”

“I don’t believe everyone in the city only sees you as the Administrator. Surely someone recognizes the good you’re trying to do.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure I’ve made it clear, but the Haven isn’t exactly public knowledge.”

“Not that, I mean—” Lakun broke off.

“What? You trying to sweet-talk me now?”

“I’m just saying, every time Veecol gives you a drink you talk about the life of a scoundrel, piracy, that game. There’s got to be something here for you.”

“You act like I’m tied down. I’m still the one choosing to live on the clouds.”

“Right. So, if nobody else is taking the initiative, can I get you dinner sometime?”

Lando blinked. “I thought I was just like everyone else?”

“I got my hopes up first. What can I say, I’m an optimist.”

“You’re going to have to get used to talking to people if you go out for dinner.”

Lakun smiled. “Hope you’re worth gambling on.”

Which is how he wound up at the Spireview, one of the glassy buildings seemingly more interested in its architecture than its menu. Though the drinks weren’t bad, Lando kept finding himself distracted, not always by Lakun but by the way others regarded them. The waiter did a double-take at the fact that Lakun probably wasn’t an off-world investor trying to land a sizable contract, and the other customers gave them plenty of space (though they thankfully didn’t try to corner Lando with political petitions or treat him like a celebrity sighting).

Lakun seemed unfazed. “If gossip is the worst threat you have to face, can you really complain?”

Since Lakun remained recalcitrant to share his, or the cosmos’, past, Lando found himself speaking of his life before Bespin. “Wound up winning a slate of astromechs in a race of sorts. Figured I was going to use them to upgrade—uh—my ship, but never exactly got around to it. Well, I lost the ship, but that’s another story. So here I am with this line of astromechs and some accounts to settle ‘creatively.’ I wind up taking a loss on them to cover some expenses elsewhere, so if you see a gang of droids operating autonomously around Geonosis, well, you know who to blame.”

“Thank.”

“Come again?”

“Droids should be free to choose their own terms of employment. Whether that’s for a human or for themselves.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a Clone War-era activist.”

Lakun almost choked on his drink. “Assuredly not.”

“Have you even _heard_ of the Clone War? Sorry, something else you probably want to catch up on in the annals of recent galactic history.”

“I’ve come across it, yeah.”

Lando wasn’t aware of the details of the substratum patrol salaries, but he was confident Lakun made a fraction of what he did. Still, Lakun tried to insist on paying for dinner, until Lando convinced him to go Dantooinian and split the check.

“So?” he asked, as they left the windows of Spireview behind. “Still think I’m as terrible as everyone else here?”

“Hmm,” said Lakun. “I may have judged you too soon. If everyone else in Cloud City is as—interesting—as you, it’s a shame I don’t get to talk with all of them.”

“Not that bad a shame, surely,” said Lando. “Despite what the rumors say, I’m not actually _that_ keen on competition.”

Lakun peered up—they were nearly of a height—and kissed him. It seemed skill with a kiss, unlike technology, was not something that had necessarily improved since bygone eras; whenever he came from, Lakun was plenty talented.

“Whoever you are,” Lando said, once they’d separated, “I very much hope you will give me another chance to know you as a person.”

It didn’t happen in a day, or in a week. Just when Lando thought he had something to look forward to outside of work and the Haven, agendas kept piling up, or perhaps he was just more acutely conscious of them than before with Lakun waiting for him beyond. But the nights did come when Lakun let Lando show him the upper pathways of the city, strolling along bridges and skyways and watching the lights overhead drown out the rising stars. Lando eventually persuaded Lakun to try his hand at a few games of chance, despite claiming he couldn’t pop in himself—he’d be embarrassed to lose and vilified if he won. Lakun, hesitant at first, avoided many of the popular casinos but finally bore down to attempt a null-grav simulator, shooting a virtual laser at a rotating target and complaining endlessly when he lost. “What do you even need to _beat_ that thing? Inhuman reflexes? The Force?”

“Not a lot of call for Jedi these days,” Lando noted.

“No wonder, they must be cheating,” Lakun griped, until Lando found him a cloud car to fly the pair of them around the city.

The first time Lando stayed the night at the Haven, warm in Lakun’s arms, both still quiet, but perhaps beginning to look towards the future rather than remain trapped in the past, he woke to find that Lakun had left early to get another shift in. _Stay as long as you like, of course_ , he’d written in brisk, clear letters; _Veecol normally makes breakfast._

Feeling a little sheepish, Lando made his way downstairs. The Haveners, however, were a close-knit group who didn’t like bringing outsiders into their business, and were only too amused to find that Lakun had won the heart of their patron. Lando was less enchanted with Veecol’s concept of breakfast. Either Lakun was being extremely gracious in his tolerance for the Mon Calamari’s “cooking,” or he’d come from a time with very low standards for nourishment.

“Weeell?” Ditquin pressed. “What’s he like?”

“You all know more about him than I do,” Lando groused. “Doesn’t talk about home much, likes cloud cars, hates losing at gimmicky gravity sims.”

“Those things are rigged,” Veecol opined, “some bigwig politician or someone ought to regulate them.”

“Hey, now,” Lando raised his arms defensively, “operators have to turn a profit somehow. There are worse things to prepare you for than zero-g.”

After several more nights like those, and more pleasant mornings with Lakun returning retorts (“ah, he’s probably in my top five municipal authorities...good grief, do you even _read_ the secure nets, Kyma? it’s not like Baron Administrator is that common a title, now leave us alone”), Lando convinced Lakun to move in with him. He suspected Lakun did not agree for purposes of the commute (no better), nor to escape the teasing of the other Haveners (“you’d better come and visit,” Veecol thundered, “I’m making that dessert you like”), nor for the opulence of the Administrative quarters alone (he seemed wary in them, whether because his own epoch was so different or he found them distasteful Lando couldn’t say). Rather, he claimed “these rooms are too big for you to stay in by yourself.”

“That’s not true,” Lando said, “I’m happy working alone.”

“Do you ever listen to yourself? Half the stories you tell me are full of people I’ve h—you’ve mentioned before, smugglers and rogues.”

“And they always come out with the worse end of the deal.”

“Which is why they’re off running more fun cons and you’re doing respectable paperwork?”

“Of course not.”

“I’m unconvinced.”

“Paper is for whatever antiquated millennium you come from,” Lando said, waving at a holoscreen, “efficient metropoli have urbnets.”

“Antiquate this,” said Lakun, kissing him to fend off an argument before it could start.

Lakun was either too humble or too proud to bring it up for bragging rights, but in the end he was right; as often as he visited the other Haveners (and there were countless card games and saga-swapping in the days to come), he was ultimately set apart. At least his reluctance to speak of his own home was no longer an issue for them. Perhaps they falsely assumed they shared it with Lando, but Lando found he didn’t mind. He’d worked and played with enough individuals of dubious loyalties that finding someone who he could trust and open his heart to was such a rare surprise, sharing the present was enough. If Lakun chose not to speak of his past, that was his right. And if they chose to soar above the planet night after night rather than speculate on the future, well, dreaming of the future was a rare enough chance for many in the galaxy.

It was the arrival of new Haveners, more than anything, that reminded Lando that his leadership of Cloud City often had more to do with skill than luck. They chose to come because there were other places in the galaxy that were worse. He had seen many of them, light on his feet, and kept sailing.

And what interested the Empire about Cloud City was not its natural resources, nor its tactical location, nor even its secret network of chronologically-displaced persons. Lando itself was its weakness. Or rather, _his_ past, and the friendship he’d once valued.

If the Haveners could endure with no connection to their loved ones, their homelands, even the machines and cultures they took for granted, how could he prioritize the lives of a few people above the safety of millions? The Empire was ruthless, but they were not cruel for cruelty’s sake. Perhaps some part of him had not expected to stay long enough to see Bespin endangered, but one thing had led to another, and he would not let it fall under attack.

“We’ll be safe now,” he promised, and Lakun wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Calrissian,” he said, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What? I’m doing this to protect—you and all the Haveners, listen—the city—”

“I’m not from your past.”

Lando stared. Lakun, who twitched at the Imperial insignia on the nets and, while he’d mastered the cloud cars, still needed time to grasp the controls. Who thought saffron ties unfashionable and kloo-horns unstylish. The galaxy was a wide place, but if he was Lando’s contemporary, he hid it well. “So what, this was all some scheme to get into the Baron Administrator’s bed, but you found you were too high-minded to sell out the other Haveners along the way? Excuse me for finding that hard to believe.”

“You don’t get it, do you? The time portal—the Force—I don’t know what happened, but there’s a reason I haven’t been able to tell you anything.” Lando continued to look at him blankly. “I’m from your _future_.”

“That shouldn’t...” Lando shook his head. “Hypercuts don’t...”

“I know they shouldn’t, you try getting in the way of a—meditative portal creator. But you see? If I say the wrong thing and interfere with history, maybe the war goes the wrong way, and my parents die before I’m born. Or the Empire never—blast it, I don’t know what I can even tell _you_! I’ve had to watch myself everywhere, not even the other Haveners know how to deal with this. And I...knew you’d made some kind of misstep, but not how...”

“Misstep? I just kept millions of people safe from—occupation!”

“For a savvy reader of people you’re sure quick to trust the Empire at their word.”

“And you’re the military expert? What should I have done, oppose them with the municipal fleet?”

“I can’t talk to you right now,” Lakun raged. “Meet me on Takodana when you’re free.”

“Takodana? I can’t just drop everything and go to Takodana, I have a city to look after!”

“Of course you do. I’ll be there, take your time.”

“Lakun, I—want to trust you. Even now. But stringing me along like this?”

“Stringing you along? I’ve had to hold everything in, and—maybe someday I can trust you again, but not now.”

“Everything? Don’t give me that, you showed me something. Was none of that real?”

“Takodana, Lando. Until then, enjoy your new business partners.” Lakun sprinted down the steps of the Administrative quarters, grabbing a speeder bike he’d come to use, then turned as if to ride towards the Haven.

Lando couldn’t mourn him long, however, because the radio waves were soon alive with chatter; the _Millennium Falcon_ was requesting permission to land. He’d dreamed of being reunited with his old ship after so many years, of course, but never in those circumstances: himself a reputable authority, the spacecraft making port in the city he oversaw, and its occupants bait for an Imperial sting.

But almost as soon as the Imperial troops showed up, things went wrong. Darth Vader, the Sith Lord, wielder of the Force ( _the Force_ , he heard Lakun echo, was that power enough to reach through time itself?) began trying to dictate more terms and conditions, keeping Leia Organa and Chewbacca in the city. More refugees from a rebellion poking holes across the galaxy.

“Orgaaaana’s an Alderaaaaanian name,” Ditquin had found on the holonets. “Political dynasty. But the planet Alderaan doesn’t appeeeeear to exist anymore. Curiiiiiious.”

Then there was the bounty hunter who wanted to freeze Han in carbonite, as if the entire Empire and its contractors had never had to transport prisoners before. Had they not discovered handcuffs? Knocking someone out with a laser and taking shortcuts through hyperspace? Lando and Han had wrangled resistant hexapods for interstellar transit without losing any appendages with far less technical apparatus than Boba Fett. Surely the conquerors of star systems didn’t need to resort to untested prototypes to move sentient organisms.

By the time Vader demanded Leia and Chewbacca be taken into his custody, Lando had given up hope of going along with any more of their decrees. Part of him told himself it was what Lakun would have done. Another part said it was what his younger, wilder self would have, Han a step ahead. Still another read the odds coldly and said if he waited any longer, all of Bespin would be under the Empire’s thumb before he could fight back. He sounded the intercom and gave the order to evacuate before leading Han’s motley crew of friends to scatter.

It wasn’t fast enough to intercept the bounty hunter taking Han, but they somehow managed to rescue Luke Skywalker, the man the Empire seemed to be so intent on finding, before escaping into hyperspace. When they reached the rebel fleet, nobody seemed to have the first idea where to begin; apparently both Leia and Luke had been absent during a previous evacuation and had quite the catching up to do, to say nothing of Luke’s needs for a new arm and private conversations with his friend.

“I do intend to find Han,” Lando vowed. “We’ll meet on Tatooine, if not sooner?”

“That’s where Jabba is,” Luke nodded. “Probably the best place to search.”

“They know we’re after them,” said Leia. “Might be taking the long way around.” Chewie roared his agreement.

“I have some business in the Mid Rim,” said Lando. “If our paths cross, I’m sure Chewie will keep you posted.”

Luke nodded again, giving his mechanical arm a test wiggle.

Takodana was a forested planet, and Lando felt inclined to begin searching the cities or perhaps the mountains, knowing Lakun’s love of flight. Chewbacca, however, took over the landing and guided the _Falcon_ to a secluded lakeshore area, perhaps a trading post where he’d come with Han.

It turned out to be a bar of sorts, full of the kind of tone-deaf and high-spirited clientele that Han no doubt enjoyed hanging out with. Chewie started mingling with the other guests, keeping his large ears perked for news. Lando, for his part, looked out for Lakun.

“Over there,” pointed the small pirate in charge of the joint, who gave her name as Maz Kanata. “Showed up just a couple days ago.”

Lando made his way over, nervous, and Lakun’s hesitant pose did nothing to ease the tension. “Come here often?” Lando finally teased.

“Not really,” said Lakun. “Friends do. I mean, they will.”

“Right.”

“Take it you found your way out?”

“The Empire didn’t leave me a lot of options.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Do-gooder.”

Lakun drew him into a hug, and for a moment Lando let himself be held. Then Lakun was his grinning self again. “Snacks?” he said. “I promise they’re better than Veecol’s.”

“The Haveners!” Lando said. “The evacuation—they won’t have anywhere to go—”

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“What news?”

“I’ve never heard of them in the future. So I don’t know whether they made it out or not, or where they went. But knowing that, well—interference or not, I didn’t feel _too_ bad about giving them a little bit of advance warning, that they should be ready to run.”

Lando shook his head. “I’ll take some snacks. And a drink.”

Maz was happy to provide both, and warned that the Empire still maintained a garrison on Hoth. “I can’t tell you where to search, probably,” Lakun warned, “but if you’ll have me, I’d be happy to stick around on the _Falcon_.”

“ _If_ I’d have you? Of course I would. Just watch yourself, it flies like no other, but it’s not the most spacious on the inside.”

“I’m—thank you.”

So they voyaged back to the Outer Rim, alighting on moon after moon, outpost after outpost, following one rumor after the next. Lakun, while still unwilling to speak of the future in generality, occasionally mentioned details that he felt couldn’t hurt. “There are more diverse droid models. And less bulky weapons, too.”

“Sleeker ships?”

“Ah, you can’t always improve on the...” He waved his hand at the console, where Chewbacca was banging on several buttons at once. “Classics.”

“On decrepit old junk, you mean.”

“Time is relative, eh?”

“So is taste.”

Two months into their trek, Lando received an urgent hail. “It’s Luke.”

“Have they found Han?” Lakun snapped to attention.

“Don’t think so. He’s with an Alliance squadron not far from our position in real space, and they got accosted by some Imperial fighters. Want to join them?”

“I don’t know exactly what will happen...”

“Welcome to reality.”

“Of course I want to go.”

Chewie heaved a cry of assent, and they punched in the coordinates of Luke’s call, accelerating towards the scene of the battle. They soon honed in on the rebel squadron, who were arrayed in an ever-spiraling mix of A-Wing and X-Wing starfighters.

“We hear you, Luke, this is Lando,” he called. “What’s the word?”

“Green Squadron’s been evading most of what they’ve got, but they keep sustaining the attack. Not sure whether there’s something on the asteroid here they need to defend, or they’ve recognized I’m a high-value target, or what,” Luke radioed back.

“Roger that.”

“If you think they might be concerned about the asteroid,” Lakun suggested, “maybe do a quick low-level flyby? Lead some of them off the chase?”

Lando smirked. “Sounds like the kind of diversionary tactics this relic was built for. Stand by, Green Squadron, we’re on it.”

“Did you say Green Squadron?” Lakun echoed, but Chewbacca had already punched in the first turn to take them whizzing near the asteroid’s gravitational range, doing a quick slingshot behind the oncoming fleet.

“Take controls,” Lando said, already stepping forward to the weapons booth. This was where he’d gotten his start, Han griping about how to optimize their flight plan, him making sure they weren’t being followed. Even in safer times, when he’d navigated alone, he’d never lost the instinct.

One Imperial craft fizzled and turned off their tail, then another. Chewbacca inspected the computer readout and barked a message. “Sorry,” Lakun said. “I should have probably learned at some point, but I can’t actually speak Shyriiwook.”

Was he from the Kashyyyk system? “He says there’s no biological life on the readouts. Several small buildings, though.”

“Hmm,” said Lakun, circling in for another pass by. “Possible these units were posted there?”

“Start scanning for what could be high-traffic launch pads.”

Lando shot at more ships, missing one, frying the next. Chewbacca’s response was quick. “He says he doesn’t think the size of the buildings is consistent with long-term habitation. He also says he appreciates you flying by from all perspectives to get different views, but maybe could you be slightly less aggressive with the turn angles.”

“Was that you that added that last part?” Lakun asked, dodging Imperial fire.

“Maybe,” said Lando, adjusting the shields.

Beyond the asteroid, the Alliance fighters were beginning to turn the tide. With the Imperial forces scattered, the A-Wings began picking them off one by one. “A fast weave through their main force should scramble them,” came a voice Lando didn’t recognize over the rebel frequencies. “They’re losing steam and don’t want to defend this.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” said Luke. “We’re not here to waste lives.”

The _Falcon_ jerked again, veering into an autopilot pattern, as Lakun stepped back from the console. A few more ships, predicting its simpler motions, took off after it again, and Lando furiously shot at them.

It was all the excuse the ambitious A-Wing fighter needed. Without a signal, the little ship flew into the fray and began an embattled onslaught of the Imperial ships. Caught by surprise, they attempted to return fire, but the A-Wing dodged and whirled past. Lando continued shooting intensely, giving no quarter while trying to make sure the approaching rebels stayed out of his line of fire.

Finally, Lakun snapped back into it and took over once again, sending the _Falcon_ soaring back into combat. Between the Corellian ship’s unpredictable motions and the A-Wing’s audacity, the Imperials finally broke formation, and what was left of their attack retreated into hyperspace.

“Green Leader,” radioed someone else, “suggesting we approach with caution and investigate?”

“You don’t need clearance from me,” said Luke, “but be careful. It may not be inhabitable.”

Lando had to rummage through several increasingly well-hidden smuggling compartments before finding one with spacesuits that would allow him and Lakun to probe the small asteroid (Han had never been very systematic about those kinds of things). A few of the Alliance made landfall, and stepped out onto the desolate world.

Their initial readings had been correct; there was no one in sight. After a few minutes’ walking towards a small building, however, a droid wheeled forward and tried to shoot them. Green Leader was faster, however, and disarmed it with a blaster to the arm.

“You are entering secure space,” it whirred, “do not trespass under penalty of incarceration, bodily injury, interrogation, and/or death.”

“Yeah, the warnings would be nice before you started shooting at us,” Lando said.

“This is an Imperial facility,” Lakun said. “Droid-staffed?”

“That information is classified,” the droid griped, slowly reaching for its blaster before Green Leader, even through the bulky spacesuit, dove for it.

“Take that as a yes.”

“We can’t just leave them here,” Lakun said, and Lando nodded.

“We’re pilots, not tech mechs,” said Green Leader. “Only a couple specialists have the capability to even give them the choice to speak freely, and all of them are back at the base—oh please don’t try kicking me, you’re going to make a fool of yourself and I’d hate to stun you.” The droid slowed its approach.

“Green Seven here,” a voice over the radio said into their spacesuits, “could we detonate a medium-term anti-electronic explosive? Stun them long enough to take them captive and bring them back to base?”

“A deliberate infiltration of your base? Splendid,” said the scout droid.

“Taking that as a yes. Just be sure guards are standing by in case they _don’t_ come around to our way of thinking after the autonomous upgrade,” said Green Leader.

“Does that disable cyborgs too?” said Luke. “Only I’ve got a new lightsaber to make and I’d prefer to do it with two hands.”

“Good point,” said Green Leader. “Let’s get back in our ships before you try anything fancy.”

“You’re Luke Skywalker,” said Lakun. “The Jedi?”

“Sort of,” said Luke. “I mean, I haven’t finished my training...”

“You’ve heard him on the radio,” said Lando.

“I know, I know. It’s—different to see you in person, is all,” Lakun said.

“Come on up to the _Falcon_ with us and we can talk. Chewie misses you too.”

They boarded the _Falcon,_ taking off their spacesuits and drifted slightly above the asteroid while Green Seven prepared his weapon. “Lando tells me you are still very talented with the Force,” Lakun said, “lightsaber or none.”

Luke blushed. “I’m not sure about that. Sometimes it feels like luck.”

“Have you heard of the Contemplation of Dezinrift?”

“No!” Luke said. “Is that a meditative exercise?”

“Of a sort. I heard it said that when one who knew the Force applied their mind in such a manner, they could draw on great power.”

“You learned this from a Jedi?”

Lakun squinted at Luke. “Sort of.”

“Give us a minute,” Lando said, waving Lakun aside. “This is how you got here, isn’t it? An accident with the Force?”

“Yeah,” Lakun said. “Only, if Commander—Luke doesn’t know the contemplation, I don’t think I should teach it to him.”

“Maybe he learned it from you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s the Force! Does any of it make any sense?”

“Got me there,” said Lakun. “I don’t know if it’ll work, I don’t know if it’ll get me back to my right time, and leaving you...”

Lando closed his eyes. “People move on for lots of reasons. Some fair, some terrible. If you of all people have a chance to get to a time where you belong? That’s a chance worth taking.”

Lakun kissed him softly, in thanksgiving as much as farewell, and Chewie hooted his acclaim.

“You want to focus on times long past and open yourself to times yet to come until they blur as one,” Lakun told Luke. “Let your imagination flow into the force. When a white void begins to appear in front of you, focus on it and pour your energy into it until it’s big enough to step into, and that’s where I’ll go. Wherever it takes me.”

“All right,” said Luke, sitting down and starting to concentrate.

“I can’t ask you if we win the war, I can’t ask you if we meet again? In your time?” Lando said.

“You can ask, but you know me, I’m a quiet guy,” Lakun said. “Wait, is your radio still there?”

“Sure, why?”

“Turn it on.”

Lando quickly did so.

Lakun stared into it, as nervous as Lando had ever seen him. “Millennium Falcon calling Green Four? Thanks for saving our rear ends there. Uh, you’re one hell of a pilot.”

“Not a problem,” called the daring A-Wing pilot from before. “If I may ask, how did you know my callsign?”

But when Lando turned, Luke stood alone, focusing on an orb that shone with the living Force.

“Call it a stroke of luck,” Lando finally said. “Let’s go bring some droids home.”


End file.
